


elizabeth cooper likes to top girls (fight me)

by Fncking_werewolves



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, betty is a secret top fight me, betty is taking action gal, but like, heavy petting would be more accurate, pure sweet betty, ronnie is totally more bark than bite, theres no actual sex in this soz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9900101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fncking_werewolves/pseuds/Fncking_werewolves
Summary: lets be real betty dances alone (or, in this case, not so alone) in her room all the time and its a travesty that we don't get shown it at least once an episode





	

 

Veronica eased the door open, leaning against the doorjamb. She’s told Betty she was coming, well, she’d sent a text. But lets be real here, Betty had never objected before and Veronica knew her mom was at work so she just showed up.

The music was _loud_. So loud, in fact, that she was pretty sure Betty hadn’t heard her come in. Hadn’t even heard the door.

Veronica kind of liked the feeling. She was no stranger to the element of surprise, especially when it came to Betty.

She smiled,

Her _good friend_ Betty.

(Best friend).

(Soulmate, really).

So, here she was, ogling Betty through her open doorway.

She’d never seen her dance like this, not at the formal or at any party they’d been to since, not even singing along to music in Veronica’s car. It was unrestrained, excessive, she’d thought it a little bit ridiculous but then the way Betty’s cami rode up on her stomach as she rolled her hips just so caught any laughter threatening to spill out of her throat.

She felt like she was imposing. A voyeur, observing her friend’s private moments, even if it was something as innocent as dancing.

(Veronica wasn’t thinking innocently at all).

She observes for a while, it must be seconds really, but the more time goes on the more she realises she’s actually kind of… Awestruck?

Honestly? Veronica doesn’t know why Betty doesn’t dance like this more. Well, not exactly like this, but more carefree. She can almost picture it; a party, music blaring, room filled with drunken bodies. All eyes on the two of them, together. Betty with her arms around Veronica’s neck, her own arms around Betty’s waist, them moving together, twirling, Betty raising an arm up as she really gets into a song, throwing her head back, _grinding-_

Veronica snaps her attention back to the present, a smirk playing on her lips as she filed that scenario away for future planning.

Just as she’s about to pipe up and say something, announce her presence - Betty turns her head and she just looks so incredibly happy that any and all words Veronica could possibly have thought of die in her throat and she finds her face is straining to smile wider than it already was.

However, at that moment Betty turns - jumps - around and Veronica’s cover is blown. No longer a fly on the wall, she finds herself face to face with a very flustered Betty who looks like she’s in the middle of trying to figure out whether fight or flight is a better option.

Veronica scrambles for some semblance of cool - what semblance exists when face to face with a goddess? - and ends up going for a smirk;

“Maybe _I_ should’ve asked to see _your_ moves.”

This makes Betty turn an even deeper shade of red and Veronica finds herself staring, taking in the pink flush cheeks and mouth open slightly to form a perfect o, she finds her own cheeks staring to heat up as she notices the way Betty’s chest is still heaving from dancing, her breath coming out in fast-paced puffs, and that little sliver of stomach on show again and _fuck this girl is a wet dream._

“I was just… Cleaning…” Betty offers lamely, motioning to where the vacuum cleaner lay abandoned beside the bed. Veronica hadn’t even noticed it.   
Veronica decides she could stay staring at this forever. She wants this scene painted on her bedroom ceiling, this Betty, flushed and flustered, the one who dances carefree and abandons the vacuum cleaner because the song is _just too good_.

In a fraction of a second she files through all the ways she can make this Betty appear and mentally makes a list.

It doesn’t take much to decide what’s item no. 1.

Betty looks at her expectantly,

“So, are you going to come in or just stand in the doorway all evening?”

Veronica laughed but moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. She wanted to call Betty out on the subject change but her cheeks were still flushed and she didn’t want to seem like she was making fun so she let it slide.

(However, she couldn’t stop the lingering mental image of Betty, happy and carefree, in that tiny top and a pair of old sweatpants).

So, she opts on giving Betty an out.

“Who is this anyway?” She motions to the speakers. If Betty Cooper was going to be her not-so-new obsession it’s about time she committed.

 

  
*    *    *    *

 

  
Later, they’re sprawled out on Betty’s bed with their freshly painted nails drying when Betty turns to her abruptly, thoughtful expression on her face.

She has that little crease between her eyebrows that Veronica just knows is going to turn permanent one of these days, she wants to reach out and smooth it with her thumb.

(It’s a good thing her nails are still wet or she just might, and who knows what sort of mischief that would cause).

For a second indecision flashes across Betty’s features, teeth raking across her bottom lip. She releases it, making up her mind,

“You know Ronnie, I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend quite like you before.”

She says it quietly, almost a whisper, and Veronica doesn’t even try to hide the confusion on her face.

She takes in the blush that dusts Betty’s features. Is it a blush? _Was she always blushing? Is she warm ?_ Veronica tilts her head, scanning Betty’s features for any insight into the meaning behind her statement, ignoring her pounding chest for fear of jumping the gun. Coming up with nothing, she decides to linger a little, letting her eyes wander.

Betty’s cami has once again ridden up around her stomach, covering the bare minimum of her toned midriff. Veronica’s eyes move from admiring her shoulders to distinctly avoiding the more risque areas, now would not be a good time to embarrass herself.

She notices that a few strands of Betty’s hair have escaped her ponytail, and the left leg of her sweatpants is bunched up just before her knee. She comes full circle, settling back on Betty’s face, and her breath hitches.

Betty is still looking at her with that hard to read expression, and Veronica realises once again she likes her like this, comfortable. With her goofy (not goofy at all) dancing and her well worn sweatpants and the sheen of sweat - that she can still very vividly picture - coating her body.

The realisation feels deeper this time, her chest resonates with something.

There’s a light behind Betty’s eyes even now as she looks at her and as she meets her gaze she realises she can hear her blood rushing in her ears.

Her body feels hot all over and she decides, _fuck it,_ she’s going to go for broke.

She leans in to Betty, breaking her gaze to look down at her lips, making sure that it’s obvious. _Veronica Lodge is nothing if not a tease._

“A friend like me?”

She moves closer, scootching over on the bed, running a hand down betty’s arm and letting it rest lightly on her waist.

She’s got it down to a tee, the confidence thing. A pro at bending any situation around her little finger. She is a Lodge after all, this isn’t the first time she’s tried to work a room.

However, the thing most people forget about Elizabeth Cooper is that she’s kind of a wild card.

And then she notices Betty’s moved forward - when did that happen? - and she’s there, in her space, stopping just short of her mouth, Veronica can feel fingers tracing over her jawline,

“You know what I mean.” She whispers, and Veronica more lip reads than hears it because she’s very busy staring at her mouth right now.

(Betty’s mouth, the one that is, like, two millimetres away from being pressed to her own. That mouth).

She glances up to Betty’s eyes, all hooded with the pupils blown. Veronica vaguely hears that she’s asking for permission but apparently she’s experiencing some sort of sensory overload because all she can manage is a strangled breathy noise that comes out as a whine.

She was not prepared for this.

She tries to catch her breath or steel herself somehow but the next thing she knows Betty is everywhere. She’s kissing Veronica not roughly but still with force, insistent, and Veronica can almost taste the nerves behind it.

She realises a fraction of a second too late that she isn’t kissing back and just as Betty goes to pull away she snaps into gear, reaching out and fisting her hand into the material at Betty’s waist and pulling her back down for another kiss. She feels Betty relax and her tongue swipes across her bottom lip and it all becomes too much and Veronica lets out a moan that may as well have been a cry.

Later on, she’ll think back to the kiss at tryouts and come to the conclusion that this must be why scientists do test runs. If this kiss was the first she probably would’ve transcended into some other realm and never came back, they’d never graduate from high school because Veronica would never have let them leave that bed.

She’d been kissed before-

_oh she’d definitely been kissed before, she had very much been kissed,_

-but this was a whole new animal.

Neither was sure who started smiling first, but gradually the kisses dissolved into a mess of laughter and toothy grins, until the two lay facing each other.

Veronica is painfully aware of the heat between her legs but she also feels like she could burst into tears at any moment and looking at Betty’s flushed and happy face is really not helping with any of it so she decides to file away the _problem_ she’s having in lieu of making sure that she doesn’t completely embarrass herself.

Neither speaks for a while, they just enjoy the company. Tracing fingers across cheekbones and collarbones with one hand while the other grips on for support. Each afraid that words will shatter the moment, taint it somehow.

It’s lazy, comfortable, like old sweat pants and goofy dancing.

Veronica smiles faintly, thinking absentmindedly about being overdressed as she traces Betty’s jawline.

Betty doesn’t move, just stays looking down at her, and Veronica shifts trying to alleviate some of the tension and watches as Betty gasps slightly, so subtle she would’ve missed it. There’s something smug in the way she’s looking at her though, and when she bears down and grinds slightly Veronica thinks she might just pass out.

She realises she’s gripping onto Betty’s back hard enough that if she dragged her nails down it would leave a mark. Without even meaning to, she tries it, almost losing it at the way Betty arches into her.

Almost instantaneously, her eyes widen and she begins to apologise, Betty isn’t ready for this yet, has she even been with someone like this before? Veronica realises she doesn’t actually know, Betty never mentioned it and she’s never asked.

“No. I- Ronnie, it’s okay.” Betty is looking down at her warmly, blown pupils, face showing determination and something else that Veronica is pretty sure is just arousal in the extreme.

Betty leans down,

“I’m a curious person, you think the only thing I’ve experimented with is picking locks?”

You’re full of surprises Betty Cooper. Veronica thinks, shifting her hips again.

“You’ve experimented?”

Betty licks her lips,  
“In a sense.”

“What sense is that?”

“Touch, if we’re being specific.”

Veronica isn’t even sure she wants to ask the question but apparently she can’t help herself,

“Touching who, exactly?”

Betty leans down and Veronica gasps as she feels her graze her earlobe with her teeth,

“Myself,”

Veronica lets out a groan because _god damn how did Betty already know how to drive her crazy_.

Betty pulled back, thoughtful expression on her face,

“And, well, Cheryl, this one time last year.”

Veronica’s eyes widen,

“Cheryl?! But you hate Cheryl?”

Betty bit her lip, looking away to the side with a ‘what can you do’ expression,

“That’s now. It was different back then, we used to be quite close.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Are you _jealous?”_ Although her tone is light - disbelieving - the question makes Veronica stop and think.

She pauses, letting herself really think about the two of them together, Betty and Cheryl, a sweaty mess of blonde and red, tangled up in each other, moaning.

She feels herself flush,

_Well, that was unexpected._

She looks back up at Betty again and is overcome with a need to take her and cover her head to toe in hickeys and make everyone know that she’s hers, that they belong to each other.

_B &V, forged._

Veronica sits up and brings their mouths together in a bruising kiss, taking out Betty’s ponytail and tangling one hand in her long blonde hair. Betty gasps, arms tightening around Veronica’s waist and nails digging into the back of her dress.

Veronica takes this moment to break the kiss, although she doesn’t pull back. She raises an eyebrow,

“Maybe a little jealous.”

She’s teasing, they both know that, but Veronica can’t help the tinge of honesty in the statement. She swallows it down, Betty’s hers here, now, that’s all that matters.

However, she’s really quite fond of the hickey idea. An image of Betty, with marks from _her_ lips donning her neck from jawline to collarbone secured to the forefront of her mind.

Without thinking, she finds herself leaning in, kissing the soft skin at Betty’s pulse point before beginning to suck.

Betty tugs lightly on her hair, pulling back,

“Ronnie, you know my mom will kill me.”

Veronica can tell that she’s trying to sound stern but there’s no disguising the smile playing on her lips.

Betty leans in and kisses Veronica again. It’s not forceful or insistent or rough like before, it’s so soft and sweet that Veronica feels like she might cry. She lets Betty lower her back down onto the bed, internally cursing her gooey romantic interior. Although, truth be told, she always imagined that if out of the two of them someone was going to be swept off their feet it would be her doing the sweeping.

It felt nice, she decided. Wonderful.

That is, until there was the sound of keys in the front door.

Betty jolted back off the bed, hands instinctively balling up into fists at her sides. Veronica stood, quickly, taking ahold of Betty’s hands in her own and smoothing them out. She reached up and kissed Betty on the cheek,

“Relax, I’ve got this.” She said, moving over to the window,

“Ronnie what are you-“ Betty started,

Veronica had the window open now, one leg over the ledge. She turned back to Betty and winked,

“You’re not the only Nancy Drew wannabe around you know.”

Betty brought a hand up to her mouth, stifling a laugh, as Veronica manoeuvred her way out of her second story window in a pencil skirt.

_“Elizabeth?”_

Betty’s eyes widened, Veronica hurried to make her way out, pausing to look at Betty with one perfectly raised eyebrow,

“To be continued?”

Betty rolled her eyes, glancing at the door before giving Veronica a quick peck,

“To be continued.”

Alice Cooper burst into the room just as Veronica ducked out of sight.

“Betty I was just at the office and-“ She paused, snapping her purse shut,

“Why have you got the window open?”

Betty shrugged,

“Just needed some fresh air.”

 

*    *    *    *

 

  
**Archie: i jst saw the weirdest thing**

**Jug: ??**

**Archie: veronica tried 2 climb out of betts bedroom window?! i ran down to help but when i**   
**got there she was already at the bottom**

**Archie: she was wearing a skirt and evrything**

**Jug: I’ve always said that girl was weird**

**Archie: even i cnt climb out those windows**

**Archie: how ????**

**Jug: Veronica Lodge, an enigma**

**Archie: ?????**

**Jug: *sigh***

**Jug: Pop’s?**

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, sorry if it was all over the place or ooc or that
> 
> side note: i cant believe betty's mum is actually called alice cooper like the rock n roll dude i mean come on how am i supposed to write that and take it seriously without picturing a sweaty man in leather with his face painted (imagine)


End file.
